


we'll get there fast, and then we'll take it slow

by in_deepest_blue



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is in Lolita fashion in one of the vignettes, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), F/M, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Japan, Japanese Culture, M/M, Male-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Male-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Multi, Mutual Pining, Other, Travel, World Travel, it's all set in Japan, literally just got inspired by that one line in the song, no visiting Aruba or Jamaica or Kokomo in this fic, other songs that inspired this fic are Plastic Love and Glamorous Sky, see footnotes for info re: the historical and cultural references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28527669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_deepest_blue/pseuds/in_deepest_blue
Summary: "Hurry over like a horse, but take your time like an ox laden with treasures." One summer in late 19th-century Japan, Aziraphale learns about a fascinating tradition during Obon, the festival to honor the deceased, which reminds him of his hopes for a future with Crowley.A look into four different stages in Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship, all set in Japan during different seasons and time periods.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	we'll get there fast, and then we'll take it slow

**Author's Note:**

> "Kokomo" got stuck in my head sometime in 2020 (I blame the "What We Do in the Shadows" series for that; there's an episode in which one of the vampire protags, Laszlo, claims to have written "Kokomo"). In particular, the line "we'll get there fast, and then we'll take it slow" reminded me so much of Aziraphale and Crowley, as well as of a certain summertime tradition in Japan that also involves arriving fast but drawing out your goodbye, and that's how this fic came to be.
> 
> Regarding the ending, btw, I'd like to think that this fic slightly diverges from real-world history in that 2020 turns out to be a fairly good year—with no pandemic, for one.

**August 1884: Meiji 17 (Summer)** [1]

Aziraphale was no stranger to mingling with high society; it was simply part of the job. But ever since the Arrangement with Crowley had started, he had grown used to _coincidentally_ running into the demon at banquets and suchlike, to the point that it was almost a given that if one of them were at a function, the other would happen to be there, too.

But that was then, and this is now—22 years since they fought over holy water, yet Aziraphale hasn’t heard a single word from Crowley at all, not even a laconic letter. The angel is in Tokyo’s opulent Rokumeikan Hall,[2] attending a midday banquet as part of a delegation of British dignitaries, industrialists, and creatives.

Following the opening of its borders to the world, Japan had, in the last few years, had seen many firsts: the first railway, the first Western-style building, and so on, and Aziraphale is now here to see these changes for himself. Ostensibly, he’s visiting as A.Z. Fell, proprietor of a very exclusive bookshop and a patron of the arts, wishing to acquire some Japanese books and manuscripts to take back home. 

It’s not entirely fiction, of course, but the angel was dispatched with orders from Up Above to ensure that Japan’s efforts at Westernization weren’t just limited to industrialization, but also accepting the word of the Lord. Aziraphale didn’t quite see what was wrong with Shinto and Buddhism, so he successfully convinced Gabriel that he’d have more success securing souls for the Lord by not traveling with missionaries, who tended to put the locals off with their fire-and-brimstone fervor. Besides, freedom of religion had just been reinstated in Japan a decade ago. 

While flitting around the banquet hall, Aziraphale scans the room, hoping for a glimpse of fiery, vivid red hair, but to no avail. His heart sinks, and he chides himself, _what were you expecting; does Crowley even know you’re not in London_? The angel tries to convince himself that he’s gone for longer without seeing Crowley, so he shouldn’t fret, really — what is a couple of decades for immortal beings, after all?

Despite the delicious food, it’s all a bit much for Aziraphale to take — with Crowley around, he’d almost forgotten how stuffy these parties could get. Truth be told, he’d hoped to try more of the local cuisine and immerse himself in the local lifestyle, so he excuses himself — but not before hastily throwing in some blessings so that Gabriel can consider this mission a job well done. 

Spotting a horse-drawn carriage and refusing offers to be chaperoned, Aziraphale asks to be taken to wherever he can try some Edo-style sushi and observe the local way of life. The driver agrees to take him to a working-class neighborhood, but cautions him, “Some restaurants might be closed. If not, they might close early. It’s Obon, you see.”

“Obon?” Aziraphale tilts his head, perplexed.

“A festival for us to honor our ancestors. Look around a bit; you might see some people preparing.”

Aziraphale alights and begins his stroll around the idyllic town, a very different world from the decadence of the Rokumeikan. He sees people in cotton kimonos hanging up lanterns, and when he notices some people staring at him — a blond-haired, blue-eyed stranger sticking out like a sore thumb — he waves shyly, blesses them, and reminds himself to ask his host about getting a kimono. 

Passing by a row of houses, he spots some children — neighbors, perhaps? — setting up cucumbers and eggplants in front of their homes. The vegetables are propped up on sticks, a curious little sight.

“Hello,” Aziraphale begins, in slightly accented but fully comprehensible Japanese.

The children eye him cautiously, but make no move to run away.

“I just couldn’t help but notice those cucumbers and eggplants you’re setting up. They’re very charming, but I don’t understand. Are they decorations? Toys?”

The children look at one another in surprise and puzzlement, unsure of what to say, until one of the older ones, a confident girl who looks about 12, speaks up. “Wow, you speak our language very well, mister. “

She points to a cucumber. “This is a _shoryo-uma_ , a spirit horse. And the eggplant next to it is a _shoryo-ushi_ , a spirit cow. They’re supposed to carry our ancestors.”[3]

Another of the children, a boy, chimes in. “Yeah! Our parents say that the spirit horse transports our ancestors here at the start of Obon ‘cause horses are fast. But when Obon ends, they take the cow back because it moves slowly, so they can take their time as they say goodbye to us. Oh, and the cow is big like the eggplant is wide, which means they can help our ancestors carry lots of gifts and blessings back.”

The girl who first spoke nods. “They hurry over here quickly, but they leave very, very slowly, which means we can spend more time with them.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale says. “That’s very interesting, indeed. I learned a lot from you all. Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome!” The children reply. Just then, the older girl notices some of the younger children taking turns poking eyes into a cucumber-and-eggplant set. “Hey! Don’t do that!”

The little ones giggle. “My mom and dad said we could decorate them if we liked!” says one boy, as the older girl rolls her eyes. “I betcha grandpa and grandma in heaven will ‘preciate it! Whaddaya think, mister?”

Aziraphale laughs. “Well, I can’t speak for your ancestors, but a dear friend of mine always says that if you have to go, do it with style, so perhaps your grandparents wouldn’t mind.” He humors them by slipping off his bowtie and looping it around the eggplant. If he were feeling cheeky, he’d have miracled up a brush and ink to draw some spectacles onto the cucumber. The children burst into laughter, and the little boy brags, “My grandparents are gonna come to town on the coolest _shoryo-uma_ ever!”

Later that day, as Aziraphale feasts on some sushi at one of the few restaurants that’s open, his mind drifts off to daydream of drawn-out farewells: long train journeys and boat rides with his wily Adversary that involve not a single word about Up There or Down Below, only exchanges laden with banter and fondness, shared meals, and free-flowing drinks.

Someday, perhaps — if that day ever comes. Until then, he wonders if he should make his own spirit horse and cow, too. _Come back to me in haste, Crowley, and linger all you like._

* * *

**November 1983: Showa 58 (Autumn)** [4]

“...I mean, sure it wasn’t an outright ‘no’; it sounded more like a ‘not yet; don’t hurry,’ but I don’t want to presume too much, y’know?” Crowley isn’t quite sloshed yet, but she’s already tipsy at this point. Thank someone she’s just at her hotel’s bar; people won’t have to fuss over her, worrying about how she’ll get home — it’s not like she can just miracle herself sober in front of humans.

The woman sitting next to her nods thoughtfully, taking a small sip of her non-alcoholic cocktail. “Men,” she sighs, commiserating. “They’re terrible with words sometimes, aren’t they?”

“Tell me about it,” Crowley replies. 

“So, I don’t think I got to ask you — what’s a stunner like you doing here in Japan?” the vivacious woman asks in English, filled with curiosity. “I can’t imagine you’re here to see the autumn leaves; surely you’ve got plenty of rustic scenery like that where you’re from. Or are you here to forget that almost-but-not-quite lover of yours?”

“Short-term work assignment.”

“Ooh, some kind of glamorous jetsetter, huh,” she teases. “Hope your work’s not keeping you too busy, though. Done some sightseeing yet?”

Crowley shrugs. “Eh, here and there. Then at night I hit the bars or discos. ‘S fun; never a dull moment, and the places are almost always packed.”

“Everyone sure is living it up nowadays. I suppose that that’s the Bubble Era[5] for you. Liking the disco scene here, then?”

“For the most part. It’s fun dressing up all flashy, then dancing the night away. And I was doing just that earlier, but someone ruined my night! Some… some bastard!” Crowley bangs her first on the table. “And that’s why I’m getting wasted tonight!” she declares.

“Oh dear; what happened? Are you all right?” 

“‘Cept for my heart — wait, do I even have one? — yeah, I’m fine. There I was, just dancing, minding my own business, when someone flirts with me. I’m no stranger to getting flirted with, and I can take care of myself. But tonight, that bastard who tried to hook up with me… he reminded me so much of _him_! Who would’ve known I’d run into someone like _him_ in this country — angelic blond curls, sparkling blue eyes… but smarmier?!” Crowley takes a deep breath and pauses, as the woman rubs circles on the demon’s back to calm her down.

“No, I didn’t come here to run away from my angel,” the fiery redhead continues rambling, after composing herself for one brief moment. “And I guess we’re cool, we’re still friends, but we haven’t hung out much since that day, y’know? I don’t think we’re avoiding each other on purpose, but it just… kinda happened. I just threw myself into work and disco; he never really liked modern music much, anyway, but… erm… I dunno, would be nice if maybe we could have one dance someday, even just one.”

It’s hard to get a word in between Crowley’s drunken rants, but the woman quickly manages to say, tentatively, “Maybe all is not lost, if you’re still friends…”

“I went to the disco as usual to have a good time,” Crowley nearly wails. “But then I was reminded of him! Go… Sa… Someone’s sake! Why does the universe love tormenting me?”

“There, there. I can’t really offer you more than luck; I hope you and your man sort things out. But at least for tonight, I think you just need to sleep this off…”

Unbeknownst to Crowley, the year after, a soulful song about a lovelorn woman who dances her heartbreak away at discotheques hits the airwaves, to a modest reception. It isn’t until a bit over three decades later, though, that Crowley discovers the song on YouTube, during one of his days off from nanny duty. He can’t help but shake his head fondly at how the song, despite being tinged with heartbreak, offers some hope: _dance to the plastic beat; another morning comes..._ [6]

* * *

**March 2006: Heisei 18 (Spring)** [7]

They’re in Japan once more, this time for separate assignments so different that it would’ve been difficult for one of them to do both. Aziraphale is presenting as an elegant, doll-like beauty straight out of the Rococo era; the assignment called for some modeling for an increasingly popular fashion subculture. Meanwhile, Crowley’s mission is far less interesting, though the demon is no less stylish, and his signature half-swagger, half-strut has people turning their heads and wondering if he’s some kind of model, too.

It would be a shame to not meet up when they’re both in the same area, so the angel and the demon agree to rendezvous at a popular park. It’s cherry blossom season, which means that throngs will be showing up to admire the dainty flowers and hold picnics — providing plenty of plausible deniability. No, Aziraphale and Crowley were totally not making plans to meet up; it just so happened that both of them wanted to see the cherry blossoms and were in the same area, and don’t business trips allow for a bit of leisure time, anyway?

They’re walking around the park, making idle chatter as Crowley tries not to gawk at Aziraphale, pretending not to notice how endearing she looks with her hair even curlier (and longer) than usual, and her makeup making her look all the more like an exquisite porcelain doll. 

Halfway through some bickering about whether eating while walking is still rude in Japan (“Some Japanese youths do it, too, angel, so just buy those _dango_ already — you know you want to…” “Oh, you fiend, we have to set a good example!”)[8], they pass by a group that clearly takes their cherry-blossom picnicking to the next level, what with a portable karaoke system all set up. A young woman is singing her heart out, as her friends clap along and move their heads to the beat. 

Aziraphale and Crowley can only make out the last of the lyrics, as the upbeat Japanese pop song is apparently about to end, but it’s enough to give Aziraphale pause.

_I want to clear the sky of clouds, so I can light up your future  
_ _But I carry that dream alone as I walk toward those glorious days  
_ _I want to cross that rainbow and return to that morning,  
_ _Back to those glamorous days when, our dreams aligned, we walked together_ [9]

The song ends, and the woman’s friends burst into applause. “Everyone’s, like, covering that song, but you’re killing it!” one of them says. And although be-bop isn’t her thing, Aziraphale finds herself clapping, too.

This catches the attention of the lively group. “Oh!” the singer exclaims. “Do you know this song, too?”

Aziraphale shakes her head. “I thought the lyrics were quite meaningful and bittersweet, though.”

Someone else interjects, “So you can understand Japanese? Cool! The song’s called ‘Glamorous Sky,’ by the way! It’s this super-popular song from this hit movie from last year. It’s on DVD now; maybe you can get your boyfriend over there to buy it for you!”

“Ah,” Aziraphale blushes, and Crowley has to look away at the precious sight. “He’s not my boyfriend, though — just a friend! Anyway, we must get going now. Thank you for telling me the title of that lovely song, and do carry on with your picnic!”

From the park, Aziraphale and Crowley take a short walk to colorful Harajuku, busy as ever, where Aziraphale shows Crowley the designs she modeled. They don’t stay very long, neither of them being very fond of crowds.

As they make their way back to the station, though, Aziraphale surprises Crowley with a present: a detailed gothic-style choker with a burgundy-colored rose in the middle, as well as blood-red beads hanging from it. “I’m not really up to speed on youth fashion—or any kind of modern fashion, as you may well know,” she says. “But I saw this and thought of you, and, well, the girls said that this kind of fashion is in vogue right now.” Crowley is speechless, but his gesture of wearing it is more than enough to convey the words unsaid.

Neither of them dares bring up the memory of a suggested picnic in the far-off future. One day, they won’t just watch people picnicking; they’ll sit down and have their own. Well, maybe without the karaoke machine, and perhaps at St. James’ Park, back home. They don’t want to get their hopes up too much, but they still hold on to the hope that that day will come.

* * *

**December 31, 2019: Reiwa 1 (Winter)** [10]

It’s the very first winter of the rest of their lives, and on this snowy night, they’re about to welcome their first new year together, an ocean away from the maddening crowds of partygoers that normally flood the streets of Soho around this time of night. 

Back in London, it’s just nearly four in the afternoon, but in contrast, it’s almost midnight deep in the Japanese countryside, where Aziraphale and Crowley are holed up in the comforts of a luxurious _ryokan_ inn, complete with their own in-room hot-spring bath and a heated _kotatsu_ table.

“I must say, I find quiet New Year celebrations like this to be more of my liking,” Aziraphale muses, before slurping some _soba_ noodles[11]. “I’ve heard there are countdown parties in big cities like Tokyo now, but thank someone it’s a solemn affair over here, for the most part.”

“You’re telling me. If we can’t celebrate New Year here every year, we should at least bring one of these things home. One of humanity’s best inventions ever, the _kotatsu_. Forget the futon; I could sleep underneath this baby all night,” Crowley replies, lying on his belly and watching Aziraphale eat. Only the demon’s upper body peeks out from the fluffy quilt covering the heated table, as if the _kotatsu_ had swallowed Crowley alive — not that he would have minded, considering its enticing warmth.

The clock strikes midnight, and, right on time, Aziraphale slurps the last of his noodles, and drinks up the remaining broth. “Happy New Year, my dear Crowley.” The angel fondly looks down at his demon, still curled up under the very inviting _kotatsu_ quilt.

“It’s our first New Year’s Day on our own side, angel; it’s already a happy one by default. Probably a good omen for the coming year, too,” Crowley says softly. “Happy New Year to you, too.”

Sitting next to the prone demon, Aziraphale huffs. “Are you ever going to get up, or do I have to join you down there for your New Year’s kiss?”

“Mmm, come huddle with me? These heated tables are best enjoyed lying down, you know.” Crowley tugs at one of Aziraphale’s trouser legs.

“Dastardly old thing,” Aziraphale mutters, but he gives in to temptation anyway.

Tonight, the angel and the demon are content to just snuggle under the covers and bask in the warmth of their _kotatsu_ but perhaps tomorrow, they might take a walk around the snow-covered town. They haven’t thought further than that, but they now have all the time in the world to do as they please. 

Watching Crowley drift off to sleep, Aziraphale thinks back to a muggy summer afternoon centuries ago, when he first learned of eggplant horses and cucumber cows. _Hurry over like a horse, but take your time like an ox laden with treasures._ Well, they can do exactly that now. Gone are the days of one going too fast for the other, now that their paces are in sync.

Together, they’ve come to learn that eternity and immortality are neither the curse nor the living death that humans often envisioned them to be in their masterpieces. Rather, it’s an ever-unfolding journey on an infinite road, with no fixed destination — and it’s one that they’re both happy to take. 

So they’ll delight in the new — so long as there is life in the world, there will always be change — but revisit the old. They won’t waste a single second, but they’ll take their time to savor every experience and live in the moment. They’ll let new people into their lives, knowing when to let go, and that “lost” doesn’t always mean “gone forever.”

But those are for another day, another time. They have the rest of their lives ahead of them; they can afford to meander.

* * *

1 While Japan uses the Gregorian calendar, it also has a system of adopting new era names whenever a new emperor ascends the throne. The Meiji era was from 1868–1912, so Meiji 1 is 1868, Meiji 2 is 1869, and so on. (To this day, some Japanese official documents use Japanese era names and numbers instead of Gregorian calendar years, e.g. Reiwa 1 instead of 2019.)  
  
The Meiji era is often also called the Meiji Restoration, because this was when the Imperial Family took back the throne (instead of having _shogun_ commanders running the country). It was also a time of rapid industrialization and growth, prompted by Japan opening its doors to large-scale foreign trade after a long period of isolation.[return to text]

2 The [Rokumeikan](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rokumeikan) was a hall for upper-class Japanese and visitors from the West (mainly Europe) to mingle. Sure, it impressed some people, but it also attracted a lot of criticism from Japanese and Westerners alike: that it was too decadent, that it was a sign of Japan losing its traditions, that the Japanese were trying too hard, and so on.[return to text]

3 Yes, [this tradition](https://www.tjf.or.jp/clicknippon/en/365/event/obon-festival/a-cow-and-a-horse-of-bon-season.php) actually exists, though in some regions or households, the _shoryo-uma_ and _shoryo-ushi_ are placed indoors, on Buddhist altars, instead of outside. Some start off by placing these outside, then take them inside. _Shoryo_ means spirit, while _uma_ means horse (and _ushi_ , cow), but _shoryo-uma_ is often used as an all-encompassing term for both the horse and the cow.[return to text]

4 The Showa (literally, “bright peace”) era was a rather long one, from 1926–1989. Ironically, its first couple of decades were turbulent due to the Great Depression, ultranationalism, and World War II, but the postwar Showa era is often looked through nostalgia-tinged glasses as a period of stability.[return to text]

5 Japan’s mid-’80s to early ‘90s are considered its “bubble era” or golden age, because that’s when asset prices skyrocketed, and the economy was at its peak. The bubble eventually burst, though.[return to text]

6 [“Plastic Love”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3bNITQR4Uso) (1984), by Mariya Takeuchi.[return to text]

7 The Heisei (literally, “achieving peace”) era was from 1989–2019.[return to text]

8 In Japan, it’s traditionally considered rude to eat while walking, but stances are more varied nowadays. At some tourist attractions (especially since they tend to have more stalls selling on-the-go food), stall owners have been letting this behavior slide, while at others, they find it frustrating and annoying. And yes, you may see the occasional local doing it, too. Best to play it safe and not do so, in my opinion. (Eating in public while standing, say, next to a vending machine or stall is usually fine, though — just make sure you’re not in people’s way.)[return to text]

9 Lyrics translated by me. The song is [“Glamorous Sky”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Ty7Ko-NeZM) (2005), by Mika Nakashima.[return to text]

10 Reiwa (literally, “beautiful harmony”) is the current era; it started in 2019 after then-Emperor Akihito abdicated.[return to text]

11 _Toshikoshi soba_ (literally, “‘crossing over to [another] year’ noodles”) is _soba_ (buckwheat noodles) eaten on New Year’s Eve as a symbol of good fortune for the coming year and letting go of the past year’s regrets and misfortunes. If you want to follow tradition, you’d best eat it close to midnight, so that you can cross over from December 31st to January 1st, but it’s not uncommon to eat it closer to regular dinner hours, either![return to text]


End file.
